


Blood And Water

by Anonymous_Introvert78



Series: NCT Hurt/Comfort [6]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Murder, Defamation, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Evil Bitch, False Accusations, Here we go, Hurt Lee Jeno, Hurt/Comfort, LET'S GET IT, Lee Jeno Needs a Hug, Lee Jeno-centric, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Na Jaemin is Dumb, Protective Hyungs, Sad Lee Jeno, We Don't Like The Evil Bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-01-21 13:43:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Introvert78/pseuds/Anonymous_Introvert78
Summary: "Can't you see what she's doing? She's manipulating you, feeding off you like a parasite and you're letting her!""She's my sister!""And she's trying to get you to hate me!""Well, right now, it's working!"
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno, Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Lee Jeno/Park Jisung, Lee Jeno/Zhong Chen Le
Series: NCT Hurt/Comfort [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1413451
Comments: 113
Kudos: 411





	1. Lee Jeno

**Author's Note:**

> I'm BAAAAAACK!

I'm writing a twenty-one part (yes, twenty-one part) series! One story for each member because I'm overly ambitious and honestly? I just wanted to see if it could be done.

I just need to finish tweaking the last chapter before I post this so please be patient for a few days.

**TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!**

This fic contains potentially triggering content such as mentions of drug abuse, mentions of alcoholism and false accusations of sexual assault. Please do not read if you think this may be upsetting for you.


	2. Chapter One

“Uno!”

“What? No way! You had, like, fifty cards ten seconds ago!”

“Do not underestimate my powers, hyung.”

“You’re sitting on them, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely not! I can’t believe you would even suggest such a preposterous accusation!”

“Then move.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Principal.”

“Fine, then. I’ll just change the WiFi password and …”

“Okay! I’m sitting on them! Happy now?”

“Very.”

“Alright, everybody give three of your cards to Chenle as his punishment for breaking the rules.”

“What? No fair!”

It was a fairly typical Friday night.

They’d finished their dance practise a few hours earlier than usual in celebration of the speed with which they learned the new choreography and now they were all sat in a circle on the living room floor, UNO cards splayed over the carpet in front of them and takeaway boxes lying emptied at their sides.

Jeno had always liked the simple things. Playing a card game after a Chinese takeout – because Renjun had won the game of rock, paper, scissors – was one of those things.

They were all together, they were all happy and they were all as relaxed as they could possibly be for a group of teenagers under the scrutiny of the entire world.

Jeno should have known that all good things must come to an end. Jeno should have known that a euphoria such as this was too good to be true.

Jeno should have known as soon as the bell was rung three times in lightning quick succession and a fist hammered incessantly against the front door that his entire world was about to shut down.

“I’ve got it,” he sighed, unfolding his legs from beneath him and pushing up into a sitting position. “Nobody look at my cards.”

He could quite literally feel Chenle leaning across the space between their seats and flipping over his hand to memorise the assortment of colours and numbers he had in his arsenal.

“That includes you, Chenle!” he yelled over his shoulder as he reached the hallway, smirking at the sound of the kid’s indignant yelp.

Whoever was on the other side of the door wasn’t a fan of waiting, it seemed, because the knocking was increasing in frequency and ferocity and Jeno was just starting to wonder whether he should call the police before eradicating the final barrier between him and the new visitor.

The peephole had a carrot stuffed in it, blocking the view he had of the doorstep outside and forcing him to just open the latch without checking who was about to burst into his hallway with their hair sodden wet and their mascara leaving charcoal tracks down their cheeks.

It was a girl. She was young – younger than them – and before he could stop her, she was staggering past him and depositing two large bags at his feet.

“Oppa!” she cried, barely giving Jeno a second glance as she advanced further into his home. “Oppa, where are you?”

“Hey!” he yelled, reaching out to grab her arm and prevent her from setting eyes on whoever she was looking for. “You can’t just burst in here! Leave now or I’ll call the police!”

His fingers were already closing around his phone but before he could follow through with his threat, the door to the living room was opened and Jaemin appeared with wide eyes and an expression of pure shock on his face.

“Oppa, I’m sorry!” the intruder cried as she flung herself against him, forcing him to bring his arms up around her waist to stop her from falling. “I had nowhere else to go!”

“Get off him!” Jeno shouted as his anger flared and he started forwards, preparing himself to physically rip her from his friend if that’s what it took. “Get off him right …”

“It’s okay,” Jaemin interrupted, still holding onto the girl with one arm but using the other to gesture placatingly towards Jeno. “It’s okay, Jeno. It’s okay.”

Jeno just stood there, dumbstruck, staring at the exchange happening before him with his jaw on the floor. Whoever this freak was, wherever she’d got their address from, Jaemin shouldn’t be feeding her fantasies by returning her creepy displays of affection.

“Jae …” he started but was cut off yet again by a sentence he never thought he’d hear.

“She’s my sister, Jeno.”

Jaemin had a sister? Since when? Why had he never mentioned her? Why had he actually denied the fact that he had any siblings at all? What other secrets was he hiding from them? Did he have an evil twin? A wife? Was he a father and they didn’t know?

“Oppa …” the girl – the sister – sobbed dramatically, finally withdrawing from the embrace to cling to Jaemin’s arms as though she were about to keel over. “I can stay here, right? Please say I can stay here. Please, Oppa, I don’t know what else to do.”

Jaemin didn’t answer immediately and instead took her hand, leading her into the living room and sitting her down on the nearest sofa, completely ignoring the other three’s identical looks of surprise and confusion.

Jeno followed behind, still with his eyebrows furrowed and his arms folded defensively over his chest. If Jaemin hadn’t told them about this kid – if Jaemin had literally lied about this kid’s existence – then there had to be a reason. Jaemin didn’t lie.

At least, Jeno had thought he didn’t.

“Jisung,” Jaemin implored, the exhaustion in his voice bleeding through despite how happy and hyper he’d been just a few moments ago. “Can you go and make some tea?”

Still looking as though he didn’t understand a word of what was going on, Jisung obediently got up off the floor and disappeared into the kitchen as Jaemin made quick work of helping his sister off with her jacket.

“Look at me,” he ordered once the garment had been tossed to the floor. “Look at my eyes.”

“Oppa!” she protested, shaking off the grip he fastened on her elbows. “I’m not high! I promise!”

“Your promises mean nothing to me,” Jaemin snapped back and, for the first time, Jeno sensed anger beneath the protective layers. “Now look at my eyes.”

She scowled, pouting like a toddler, but she met her brother’s gaze and allowed him to stare at her intently for an uncomfortably long time before he finally drew back and straightened up from where he’d been crouching.

“Okay,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Your pupils are normal.”

“Told you,” the girl spat resentfully, fiddling with her unnecessarily short skirt that barely reached to her mid-thigh. “You never listen to me.”

If Jeno hadn’t been angry before, he certainly was now. With her jacket no longer concealing her arms from view, the track marks that scarred the insides of her elbows were on clear display, puffy and purplish in the cheap living room light.

“Jaemin,” he cut in, unable to keep the ice from his tone. “I need to speak to you.”

Jaemin nodded, looking as though he’d expected such a reaction, and was just on the verge of following his friend out into the hallway when the girl – she couldn’t have been any more than seventeen – addressed him for the first time.

“You’re Jeno, right?” she asked, her voice cold and her eyebrows raised in disapproval as she glanced him up and down.

“So what if I am?”

There was a pause, seemingly as she analysed him glaring back at her with every indication of dislike painted in his posture and expression.

“You’re more handsome on TV. Must be all the makeup you use.”

Spluttering in poorly-concealed disbelief, Jeno gave Jaemin an incredulous look before seizing his friend’s arm and dragging him out of the room so they could discuss the most confusing five minutes of his life.

“What the fuck?” he hissed as soon as the door was closed behind them. “Jaemin, what the actual fuck?”

“I’m sorry,” Jaemin whispered, looking like he was desperately trying not to cry, and Jeno couldn’t stay angry at him for another second.

“What’s going on?” he implored with an added softness to his voice as he brought a hand up to squeeze Jaemin’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you say you had a sister?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jaemin shot back. “She’s a train wreck. Drugs, alcohol, prostitution … You name it, she’s done it. If anybody – and I mean, _anybody _– ever found out about her then not only would I be ashamed as fuck but the media would eventually catch on and my family would be under a microscope.”

And only now did Jeno understand. Jaemin was trying to protect his parents and his sister from the scrutiny and inevitable abuse they would receive if word ever got out that he was related to an addict.

“Jaemin,” Jeno started again, hating himself for what he was about to say but unable to deny that it needed to be expressed. “She can’t stay here.”

Jaemin didn’t respond. He didn’t protest but he didn’t agree either. He just stood there, staring at the floor with a blank look in his eyes.

“You know I’m right,” Jeno continued. “If the company found out you’re housing an addict, they’d go ballistic, and if the media found out we’re staying with a girl, we’d all be ruined. And I’m sorry, Jaemin, but I don’t want her around Jisung. Or Chenle, for that matter.”

Jaemin opened his mouth, probably preparing for whatever response he had on the tip of his tongue, but Jeno was deprived the chance of hearing it by the door to the living room being thrown open and the subject of their discussion feigning a small noise of fake surprise.

“Oh,” she cried. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were out here.”

Jeno had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t think it was possible to take such a quick disliking to somebody.

“Oppa,” she called, a hint of aegyo in her voice as she playfully swatted at Jaemin’s arm. “Have you got any Soju? I’ve had a really rough day and I need something to help me relax.”

“No,” Jeno answered for him. “There’s no alcohol in this house because we’re all minors. And so, by the looks of it, are you.”

She glowered at him with such intense hatred lacing her eyes that he almost took a step back and apologised. She was just a child, probably the same age as Jisung, but she had something absolutely terrifying about the way she carried herself and the way she spoke.

She was poison. He could see that now. But it would take a lot longer before he sensed the toxins spreading through his body.

“You think you’re better than me?” she inquired, her words dangerously soft. “You think you have the right to look down on me as if you’re not some attention-seeking man whore who flashes his body in front of little girls every chance he gets?”

Jeno was stunned, but it wasn’t until the moment he realised Chenle, Jisung and Renjun were watching from the doorway – Jisung confusedly clutching a mug of tea – that the horror set in.

Was that really what he was? An attention-seeking … Did other people see it, too? Was he really so inappropriate? He loved to dance, he loved to hear the screams and he loved to have the time of his life when he was up on that stage, but had he taken things too far without realising?

“Bomin,” Jaemin snapped, stepping between Jeno and the sister whose name had just been revealed for the first time. “Because it’s so late, you can stay for one night.”

Jeno was too shaken to protest.

“And I mean one night,” Jaemin declared with a kind of authority none of them had ever heard him use before. “First thing tomorrow, I’m calling Eomma and Appa and getting them to come and collect you. So while you’re under our roof, you have to at least pretend that you know how to behave. And that includes the way you talk to my friends. Have you got that?”

“Yes, Oppa,” she agreed, batting her eyelashes sickeningly. “I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

Jeno didn’t need to raise his gaze to know that Jaemin was clenching his hands into fists and frantically trying to remain calm and collected even though the girl before him was pushing every single one of his buttons.

“Come on then,” he said at last, sidestepping her so he could reach for the luggage she’d left on the doormat. “You can sleep in my room. I’ll share with Jeno.”

His back couldn’t have been turned for more than five seconds as he stooped to retrieve the bags from the floor, but Bomin still took the opportunity to step forwards until her nose was almost brushing Jeno’s chin.

Her eyes were narrowed, slits of chalky mascara, and he could see the youth in her skin beneath the concealer, but he couldn’t bring himself to move away from her even though he could smell smoke on her clothes and in her hair.

“I’m warning you now,” she purred, less like a cat and more like a panther. “Don’t think you’re better than me. And don’t put any of those stupid little thoughts in my brother’s head, either. Or I swear, I will kill you.”

She was gone before he had the chance to reply, trailing up the stairs behind Jaemin with her nail extensions tapping rhythmically against the bannister as she walked.

And the scariest thing was, Jeno believed every word she’d said.

He gave himself an internal shake to break him from whatever trance she’d put on him with her harsh words and turned to the others who were still hovering at the edges of the scene with their faces twisted into concern.

It was like they were waiting for an order, for him to tell them to arm themselves and attack against the villain who had infiltrated their ranks so easily but he couldn’t give it to them. Jaemin was his best friend and this girl was his sister. His word was final, even if Jeno didn’t agree with it.

“Just … stay away from her,” he ordered them, finding himself wishing more than anything that Donghyuck was here instead of on tour with the 127 hyungs so that he would have someone to show him how to smile again. “She’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

He wanted to go to bed but he was afraid to go upstairs. And then he was ashamed of being afraid because this was a teenage girl he was frightened of, not a six foot gangster with a personal link to the head of the mafia.

It was astounding how quickly the atmosphere in this house had gone from carefree and euphoric to silent and uncomfortable just from the entrance of one harmless-looking child.

Already, he could tell she was nowhere near as innocent as she seemed.

It was probably part of her manipulation techniques: pretending to be cute and vulnerable so that everybody around her would drop everything and forgive the toxic personality she possessed. But he was glad that Jaemin seemed immune to it.

It was less than a week later that he and his best friend had possibly the worst fight either of them had ever been a part of. And then it didn’t feel like Jaemin was quite as immune anymore.


	3. Chapter Two

Jeno didn’t sleep well that night.

He spent hours watching fancams on YouTube, squinting through the darkness at the pixelated version of himself removing his clothes on stage, ripping his shirt open, deliberately sexualising his dance moves.

There had been children in those audiences. There had been children on that stage with him. He’d been so caught up in the moment – high on adrenaline and euphoria – that he hadn’t even stopped to think about what he was doing.

Maybe Bomin had been right.

It was almost four in the morning when he finally set his phone on the bedside table and closed his eyes, trying to open himself up to the awaiting tendrils of unconsciousness. But the monster seemed uninterested because sleep still wouldn’t come and he found himself staring up at the ceiling, trying desperately not to cry.

There was a creak from the hallway outside, probably as somebody tiptoed to the bathroom or downstairs to get a glass of water, and suddenly the idea of hydrating himself seemed the best option in his current predicament.

He climbed out of bed, pulling a hoodie over his bare chest and sliding his feet into the slippers he’d left by the door, trying to keep his steps as light as possible so as not to wake Jaemin who was sleeping on the floor.

The glare of the landing lights blinded him for a split second before he managed to blink himself into adjustment, and that was when he saw it.

Jisung’s bedroom door was cracked open, revealing a vertical ribbon of pitch black, and that in itself would have been peculiar seeing as Jisung never – _never_ – awoke in the middle of the night, but there was something else that made it downright alarming.

The pale pink dressing gown that was lying discarded over the threshold as though somebody had just shrugged it off as they padded silently towards the bed. The pale pink dressing gown that did definitely not belong to anybody living in this house.

Horror. Disgust and horror. Those were the only emotions Jeno felt as he crossed the hallway in two strides and threw open the door, projecting a sudden golden glow over Jisung’s bed and illuminating the crime that would have proceeded had it not been interrupted.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He’d never heard his own voice sound like that before. Low and harsh and ferocious with fury. His hands were curled into fists at his sides even though he couldn’t remember consciously initiating the movement, but that didn’t matter.

Awoken by the sudden intrusion, Jisung raised his head to display tangled and misshapen hair, and the moment he registered the girl standing beside his bed in her incredibly revealing pyjamas, he scrambled off the mattress with a strangled cry of surprise.

“I said, what the fuck were you doing?” Jeno roared, grabbing his maknae’s arm and pulling so that the kid was concealed behind him.

“I … I was just looking for the bathroom,” Bomin stuttered, crossing her arms protectively over her chest as though suddenly ashamed of the deepness of her shirt collar. “I didn’t know this was Jisung’s room.”

Jeno was actually shaking, fingernails digging into his palms as he frantically tried to remember his moral code and his hatred of anybody who hit a woman. Jisung slept shirtless and was now desperately searching for something to cover himself up, and Jeno had never seen a darker shade of red.

“Get out!” he screamed, lunging forwards and fastening a grip on Bomin’s upper arm. “Get out of this house!”

He threw her out of the room, indifferent to the way she stumbled and almost fell as he frogmarched her towards the stairs.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked, digging her heels into the floor and swatting at the fingers cutting off her circulation. “Let go of me! Jaemin-oppa! Jaemin-oppa, help me!”

Doors started banging open as various inhabitants were roused by the cacophony and before Jeno could throw away all sense of morality and toss Bomin down the stairs, Jaemin was at his side, tugging his sister away from a potentially life-threatening injury.

“What’s going on?” he yelled, eyelids still partially stuck together with fatigue as his head snapped between Bomin and Jeno. “What the fuck are you two doing?”

“He was trying to throw me out!” Bomin sobbed, ducking behind her brother and peering over his shoulder to glare at Jeno like he was about to shoot her between the eyes. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Jeno almost died of anger right there and then.

“She was in Jisung’s room!” he shouted, gesturing behind him to where the kid was cowering by the wall, clutching his hoodie around him. “And she and her slutty pyjamas were about to climb into bed with him!”

“That’s not true!” Bomin screeched back, wrapping her arms around Jaemin’s waist and squeezing tighter than would be healthy. “I was just looking for the bathroom! I didn’t know where it was!”

“Jaemin!”

Everybody was staring at Jaemin, except Renjun who was softly asking Jisung if he was okay, and Jeno had never seen his friend looking more conflicted than in this moment.

“Jisung …” the boy finally croaked, prying Bomin’s grip from around his body and stepping out of her reach. “Are you alright?”

Jisung nodded timidly but his face was flushed and his eyes were downcast, the tell-tale sign of a child about to cry, and he was still shrunken in on himself as though trying to melt into the wall behind him.

“She can’t stay here,” Jeno fumed, so angry that he wouldn’t have been surprised if smoke started coming out of his ears. “I’m sorry, Jaemin, but she can’t stay here. You need to call your parents and get them to come and pick her up.”

“I made a mistake!” Bomin cried and Jeno had to hand it to her, she could fake some pretty realistic tears. “I’m sorry, Jaemin-oppa! I’m sorry, Jisung! I really didn’t know! Please don’t make me go back home!”

The entire situation was so ridiculous and frustrating that Jeno felt like laughing at the way she was acting. The innocent little damsel in distress begging her brother to save her from the nasty boy who was firing false accusations.

“Renjun, Chenle, you can stay with Jisung tonight, right?” Jaemin whispered, raising his head to direct his attention towards the others who nodded in nervous acknowledgement. “Everybody, go back to bed. Bomin, you’re sleeping in my room.”

Renjun was instantly chivvying the youngest two back into Jisung’s room, kicking the abandoned dressing gown out of the way before closing the door and securing a barrier between them and the alleged offender, and Jeno couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“Jaemin,” he hissed, seizing his friend’s wrist in a grip that would probably leave bruises tomorrow. “I don’t care if she’s your sister. She’s rude, she’s an addict and she tried to assault Jisung. This isn’t a negotiable situation and you need …”

“Jeno, shut up!” Jaemin snapped, wrestling his arm back and raking his fingers through his dishevelled hair. “It’s four in the morning and she wandered into the wrong room. Jisung wasn’t touched, he wasn’t hurt. He’s fine and I want to go to bed so can you just fucking drop it?”

Jeno stared in stunned incredulity. Never, not in half a decade of friendship, had Jaemin spoken to him like that before. She’d been here less than twelve hours and already the bitch was turning them against each other.

“Thank you, oppa,” the bitch cooed, clinging to Jaemin’s elbow with both hands and nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder. “I’m really sorry for waking …”

“Stop it,” Jaemin growled, shaking her off and turning on his heel so he could storm into his room without another word said between them.

It was like flipping a switch.

The moment they were alone together, any hint of that pure little princess was gone from Bomin’s face and her eyes hardened into narrow slits of hatred as she regarded the boy in front of her with her lip curled in disgust.

“You should have seen that coming,” she hissed, advancing several steps so that they were almost nose to nose. “Blood is thicker than water, you know?”

Jeno didn’t retreat, no matter how badly he wanted to, “You’re out of here first thing tomorrow.”

She smirked. She actually smirked, one eyebrow cocked in cruel amusement as she leaned even closer and whispered in his ear, “We’ll see about that.”

“Why are you here?” he shot back. “The only thing you’re going to achieve is wrecking the already-very-strained relationship you have with your brother. He’s in danger so long as you’re here so if you care about him at all then you’d just leave.”

“Nice try.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Jeno whispered, shaking his head slowly as he looked at her. “You don’t understand what the world will do to him if they find out he’s related to a junkie. He’ll lose his job, he’ll lose his friends, he’ll never be able to show his face in public again. Is that what you want?”

He hoped those words would do something. Like shake the bitchiness out of her personality or present her with the revelation that the world did not revolve around her and her alone. But his attempts were unsuccessful.

“What I want,” she murmured, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. “Is to have fun. And if I have to push you out of my brother’s life to get it then I will.”

She was gone before he had a chance to respond, disappearing through the bedroom door after Jaemin and slamming it behind her, abandoning Jeno in his stunned stupor in the middle of the hallway.

\--------------------

Jeno had gotten no more than half an hour of sleep before he was drawn from the warmth of his bed covers by the incessant beeping of his alarm clock, signalling the start of yet another exorbitantly exhausting day.

He’d only just righted himself into a vertical position when he saw the spare mattress pushed up against the wall, still with Jaemin’s pillow and blankets strewn on top in an uncoordinated mess and he was reminded of the previous night’s events.

He was still angry, but now it was more of a quiet anger. A tired anger. A resigned anger. Because as badly as he wanted that girl out of his house and away from his kids, he had absolutely no control over Jaemin and the decisions he made regarding his relatives.

Hiding the messiness of his hair with a ball cap, he sidled down the stairs and into the kitchen where Renjun, Chenle and Jisung were already eating breakfast around the table.

They all looked exhausted, deep purple bags hanging beneath their eyes, and there was a distinct lack of the usual bubbly conversation Chenle contributed to the morning meals. No one was particularly excited to be going to the studio after the night they’d had.

He opened his mouth, preparing some groggy greeting, but the sound of Jaemin’s voice filtering through from the living room peaked his attention.

He backed out of the kitchen and slipped through the door on his left, catching sight of his friend sitting on the sofa with one hand clutching his phone to his ear and the other combing violently over his scalp.

“Appa …” he was saying, and Jeno took the hint that now was not the time to initiate a conversation. “I’ve called Eomma and she’s not picking up either so I need you to contact me as soon as you get this. Bomin’s here, okay? And she can’t be. So please … please, Appa, call me back.”

He hung up and Jeno cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to subtly make his presence known as he padded across the carpet and lowered himself down onto the sofa cushions beside the slouched figure of his best friend.

“I tried, okay?” Jaemin snapped defensively. “They’re not picking up. So if you’re here to give me another lecture on my ‘slutty’ sister then save it, Jeno, okay? Because I’m not in the mood.”

He tried to stand up but Jeno pulled him back down by the wrist, brow creased in apologetic regret.

“I shouldn’t have shouted last night,” he appeased softly. “I saw her in Jisung’s room and I freaked out.”

He took a deep breath and continued when Jaemin didn’t look like he was going to respond.

“I know this isn’t your fault and you’re just trying to be a good brother but, Jaemin, she threatened to kill me. To push me out of your life. She said that all she wanted was to have fun and I know that I don’t know her but, from what I’ve seen, her idea of fun is getting high and trying to non-consensually climb into bed with minors.”

“She’s a minor, too,” Jaemin whispered, but his shoulders seemed to deflate as he sighed. “You’re right. I know you’re right but she’s not a monster, Jeno. I swear she’s not.”

He looked up from behind a tangled fringe and heavy eyelids and Jeno could have sworn he saw a flash of desperation in the pale face and the overly lined features.

“She’s had a really hard life and this isn’t the first time she’s run away from home. Please just give me a chance to find her somewhere to go. I promise I’ll keep her in line. I just … I can’t shove her out onto the streets.”

Jeno didn’t know it at the time but the moment he muttered the soft and very reluctant, “okay”, he might have just signed his own death warrant.


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a trigger warning for this chapter. Please proceed with caution.

“A couple of days” turned into a week. And then a week turned into two. Jeno couldn’t exactly complain and that was the most frustrating thing.

For the most part, Bomin had been very quiet. She had kept to herself, stayed mostly out of sight and caused no trouble while they were at the studio rehearsing. If she had been anyone else, he probably would have quite enjoyed her company.

But every time he caught sight of her sneaking food from the kitchen and retreating up the stairs to where she and Jaemin still shared one room, he was reminded of the look in her eyes when she’d promised to kill him.

And so, no matter how tame she seemed to be acting, Jeno couldn’t relax. Not for a second. Not while she was still in his house, under the same roof as the kids he was responsible for. Not while she still had an all access pass to Jisung’s bedroom while he slept.

Jeno had spent every night since that horrible incident in the maknae’s room. He told himself it was for Jisung’s benefit, to show him that he wasn’t alone and therefore vulnerable to a potential attack, but if he was being honest, it was more for him. For Jeno.

So he could feel like he was doing something to protect the children in his care.

He didn’t trust the silence. He didn’t trust it one bit. Maybe he’d watched too many dramas, maybe he was just being paranoid, but it felt like Bomin was planning something or that she was already committing something vile and illegal right under their noses.

The calm before the storm was what they called it in fiction works. The few short moments were the sea levelled out and the wind died away and the sailors knew something big was about to hit but there was nothing they could do to prevent it.

“A couple of days” turned into a week. A week turned into two. That was how long it took before the storm struck them with all the force of a raging tornado.

And Jeno found he was the first to be thrown overboard.

\---------------------

He’d somehow managed to record his lines for the upcoming album before the others did and so he was allowed to enjoy several hours more sleep while they were shipped off to the studio at a ridiculous hour of the morning.

It was a rare treat to be able to wake up cocooned in a warm blanket with his face mashed into a pillow and know that he didn’t have to leap up and dash around the house before the managers stormed in and dragged him – no matter if he’d eaten or showered or whatever – into the cars.

So he took it slow. He relished the feeling of a long hot shower, scrubbing the soap suds into his hair until it was squeaky and shiny and soft. He took the time to prepare himself a fried breakfast, complete with a cup of Chenle’s favourite smoothie.

It was the best morning he’d had in forever and, as 9am drew nearer and he started begrudgingly preparing himself to join the others for practice, he found himself praying that his fellow members would get to experience a break like this at least once in the next few weeks.

He was lacing up his shoes in the hallway, perched on the bottom step and humming under his breath, when his phone started buzzing in his back pocket.

Wiggling a little in order to dig it out, he read Jaemin’s contact ID on the screen and rolled his eyes before clicking the green button and holding the device to his ear.

“If you’re calling to remind me to come to the studio then I’m already on my way,” he chastised, picking himself up off the stairs and reaching for his coat on the hook. “You really need to have more trust in me, Nana.”

“Yeah, yeah,” came Jaemin’s bored drone from the other end of the line. “I get it. You’re proud and perfectly capable but can you just grab the pain killers from my bedside drawer before you leave? I forgot them this morning and my knee is about to kill me.”

Jeno exaggerated his sigh of exasperation, “I don’t know. Have you really been that nice to me recently? I’m not sure you deserve my help.”

“You’re already going up the stairs, aren’t you?”

“You know me too well.”

“Thanks, Jeno. And try not to wake Bomin. She’s probably still asleep.”

Jeno’s footsteps stopped just before he could open Jaemin’s bedroom door, his gut sinking and his chest constricting at the thought of that girl still residing in his home.

It might be petty and childish but he just hated that she was still here with no indication that she was ever going to leave and he couldn’t confront Jaemin about it because he didn’t want to cause his friend any more stress or risk another fight between them.

“Yeah,” he mumbled into the speaker. “I’ll get them. See you in a minute.”

He hung up, repocketed his phone and slowly turned the doorknob until he heard the click, trying to be as quiet as possible. It wasn’t that he wanted Bomin to be able to continue sleeping peacefully. He just didn’t want to have to deal with her at this very moment.

The sunlight was peeking through the windows from behind the blinds, illuminating the room just enough for Jeno to make out the shape of a body underneath the covers in Jaemin’s bed and the random assortment of furniture strewn across the room.

Tiptoeing, he made his way over to the bedside cabinet and cautiously slid open the first drawer, reaching inside and fumbling around for the cardboard box that contained Jaemin’s prescription pills. But he never found them.

His fingertips brushed against something squishy and smooth and he frowned, wondering what Jaemin would have in his drawer that felt like that. Squinting through the gloom, he peered inside and some part of him knew before he even saw it.

There was a small resealable plastic bag lying there, right under his nose, and it was almost bursting at the seams with the sheer volume of fine white powder it contained.

Cocaine.

The movement beside him was so lightning quick that he couldn’t stop the yelp of surprise from escaping his mouth as Bomin shot up into a sitting position, one of her stick-like arms leaping to the bedside lamp and releasing a brilliantly bright glare right into Jeno’s face.

He stumbled backwards, wincing at the assault on his eyes before he managed to collect himself and took in the sight of the girl perched on the edge of her mattress, unbrushed hair puffing out at her shoulders and mouth hanging open as her mind processed the situation.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” she screamed, kicking out with her legs but missing Jeno’s body by several inches. “Get out! You pervert, get out!”

“What is this?” Jeno shot back, completely indifferent to her tantrum as he held up the contraband he was holding. “Is this cocaine? Does your brother know you’ve been hiding it in his room?”

“That’s mine!” she shrieked at him, scrambling off the bed and lunging for the drugs but Jeno merely held them above his head, way out of her reach. “Give it back! It’s none of your business!”

“You brought drugs into my house!” Jeno roared at her, shoving her away from him and glaring at her panting figure with as much hatred as he could muster. “That makes it my business! I don’t care where you got them from but I swear to you, this is the last straw! There is absolutely no way you’re staying here another night!”

The look in her eyes was practically wild, like a feral animal caught in a trap, and Jeno turned away with a hiss of disgust. All he had to do was call the police, get them to come and arrest this bitch and then he would tell Jaemin everything.

And then she would be gone for good.

“I’m dialling 119!” he threw at her over his shoulder, already reaching for his phone. “Possession of cocaine is a felon in this …”

Agony exploded behind his eyes with no warning, spreading throughout his brain and creeping down his neck as he brought his hand up to clutch at the site of the blow and sank to his knees. The cry of pain he let out sounded strangled and broken but he didn’t care about that.

He cared about the sticky scarlet substance smearing his fingers.

Gasping for air on all fours, he looked up through streaming eyes to see Bomin standing over him with a look of shock on her face. She was still holding up the base of the lamp she’d used to hit him over the head, the end of it stained with his own blood.

“I didn’t want to do that,” she muttered under her breath, dropping the weapon and stooping to grab the drugs from the floor. “That was your own fault.”

Jeno could barely breathe through the pain. His limbs were tingling and there were lights popping in front of his eyes but the only thing he could think of was getting away.

This girl was dangerous. More dangerous than he’d first thought. And now she had him at a disadvantage: on his knees, bleeding, unable to stand. If she wanted to finish him off right now, it would be too easy.

He crawled towards the door, panting heavily with the effort, but before he could get there, he heard Bomin crying. Shocked, wondering if she’d felt some kind of remorse for what she’d done to him, Jeno glanced over his shoulder and felt his blood turn to ice.

She was clutching her phone in both hands, very realistic tears streaming down her cheeks as she sobbed Jaemin’s name into the speaker.

“Oppa! Please come home! You have to come home right now! Jeno … I had to do it, Oppa! He was going to hurt me! Please, Oppa, come home! There’s so much blood! I didn’t mean to, Oppa! I swear! Please … Please come home quick!”

She ended the call and, just as quickly as her meltdown had started, it stopped.

“You’re insane,” Jeno gasped, allowing his body to collapse against the wall as his own blood started staining the back of his T-Shirt. “You’re actually insane. You really think he’s going to believe that?”

“Of course, he will,” the devil mused before she took hold of the armchair in the corner and pushed it over onto its side. “Poor little helpless girl attacked in her sleep by her brother’s best friend. She would have no choice but to defend herself in any way possible.”

She was creating her own crime scene, Jeno realised, as she continued her rampage of destruction. Jaemin’s figurines were knocked over, some of them shattering into dozens of individual body parts. The lamp was still abandoned on its side, the plug having been wrenched from the wall and the cable bent and discoloured.

And then, for the finishing touch, she grasped both hands around one of the bed posts and brought her face down onto the wooden structure with all her might.

There was a sickening thump and she staggered backwards, clutching at her eye and cursing softly under her breath. And Jeno could do nothing more than stare in a concussed state of shock.

“What the fuck … is wrong with you?”

It was getting increasingly difficult for him to breathe.

“You know … there are people out there who … who actually do get assaulted and then … no one believes them … because of bitches like … you.”

“Oh, cry me a river,” Bomin snapped back at him, straightening up to admire her freshly blackened eye in the mirror. “You need to grow a backbone, Jeno.”

Jeno wanted to reply, to tell her that there was no way she would ever get away with a lie this absurd and farfetched, but he was interrupted by the sound of the front door being thrown open downstairs and the shout that echoed from the hallway.

“Bomin! Jeno!”

“Jaemin …” Jeno gasped out, his eyes fluttering closed as the pain in his head reached its peak. “Jaemin …”

The last thing he heard was Bomin’s soft chuckle as she crouched in front of him, ruffling his hair tauntingly, “Show time, Jeno.”


	5. Chapter Four

As soon as Jaemin got the call, all he felt was panic.

He had no idea what had happened in those few short minutes since he’d hung up the phone with Jeno but, all of a sudden, his little sister was tearfully begging him to return to the dorm as quickly as humanly possible.

And that was what he’d done, ignoring all the confused shouts he’d received from Renjun, Chenle and Jisung as he seized his jacket and sprinted from the studio with his heart in his throat and his phone clutched in a white-knuckled fist.

The only facts he knew were the following: Bomin was crying, hysterically so, it seemed; apparently Jeno had been trying to hurt her; and somebody was bleeding.

It was a terrifying combination of vague details and he couldn’t have burst through his front door fast enough, screaming out for his sister and his friend at the top of his lungs the moment he’d thrown himself over the threshold.

“Bomin! Jeno!”

He heard footsteps from the floor above and then Bomin was pounding down the stairs, still in her pyjamas and with a gigantic black bruise blossoming around her left eye.

“Oppa!” she sobbed, leaping off the second highest step and throwing herself into her brother’s arms. “Oppa, I’m so sorry! I was so scared! I didn’t know what to do!”

Jaemin’s head was reeling as he brought his arms up to return the embrace, peering over her shoulder in the desperate hope that he would see Jeno standing at the top of the stairs. But he didn’t.

“Bomin,” he panted breathlessly, physically having to remove her grip from his shirt as he pulled away and took her by the shoulders to survey the damage done to her face. “Bomin, what happened? Where’s Jeno?”

His stomach did a somersault at the sight of the scarlet substance smudged over her fingers.

“Whose blood is that?”

“Oppa, you don’t understand!” she continued to wail, clutching at him like her world would combust if she let go. “He was in my room while I was asleep! I woke up and he was on top of me! I couldn’t stop him! Oppa, I was so frightened! I had to do it! I had to hurt him!”

Jaemin couldn’t breathe. Jeno being in Bomin’s room while she slept was something he could explain. He himself had asked his friend to fetch the pills from his bedside cabinet. But Jeno being on top of Bomin? That hadn’t been part of his request.

And it sounded like the very last thing Lee Jeno would ever do.

“I didn’t mean to do it, Oppa!” she was still pleading, her bloodied fingernails digging into Jaemin’s wrists. “I was just trying to get him off me! I swear, I didn’t want to hurt him!”

“Okay,” Jaemin gasped, blinking rapidly to try and shock himself back to sanity. “Let’s … Let’s go to the living room.”

He slipped an arm around her shoulders and steered her towards the nearest door, her clinging to him even as he coaxed her down onto one of the couches and knelt in front of her.

“Are you alright?” he asked, firing the words from his mouth at lightning speed. He needed to deal with Bomin before he found Jeno. “Do you … Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Yes!” she shrieked at him, gesturing wildly to the swelling on her face. “He hit me when I tried to escape! Oppa, he’s crazy! Please! We have to call the police! He was going to hurt me!”

Jeno would never hit a girl. Jeno would never hit anyone. But a bruise like that hadn’t appeared out of nowhere and Jaemin was far too frantic to bother investigating into the matter any further right now. He wanted to see Jeno, to make sure he was alright, and to stop whatever bleeding was going on.

The fact that his best friend was apparently still in the house and yet hadn’t made a single sound was perhaps the most terrifying thing of all.

“There’s some ice in the kitchen,” he told her, prying her fingers from his skin and straightening up. “Put it on your face and stay down here, okay? Just stay here.”

“Where are you going?” she screeched, latching onto him the moment he turned towards the door. “You can’t leave me, Oppa! You can’t leave me for him! He tried to hurt me! You can’t go and help him! We need to get out of here! Oppa, please, get me out of here!”

Jaemin was bordering on hyperventilation as he wriggled free of her vulture-like grasp and stumbled towards the stairs, throwing another shaky, “just stay here” over his shoulder before he was taking the steps two at a time.

Jeno couldn’t have done what Bomin had said he’d done. He just couldn’t. It wasn’t him. It was everything he wasn’t. Maybe all of this was just a misunderstanding. A potentially dangerous misunderstanding.

A misunderstanding that had left Jeno bleeding and unresponsive at the top of the stairs.

Jaemin barged through his bedroom door and skidded to a stop, staring at the detritus of overturned furniture and broken figurines that lay strewn over the carpet. Among the remains of his personal belongings lay the bedside lamp Taeyong had bought for him over a year ago, the base of it stained with something dark and crimson.

He spun on the spot and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of Jeno slumped against the wall, his face screwed up in an expression of pain and his hand clamped to the back of his head.

“Jeno!”

Jaemin dropped to his knees beside him, reaching out to investigate the source of the agony and drawing back at once when he felt the warm sticky substance trickling over his fingers.

“Oh … Oh, shit … Jeno …”

The back of his head was like a faucet, his hair matted with the blood that had started seeping through the fabric of his T-Shirt collar and was lathered artistically over the wall behind him.

He had to call an ambulance. Jeno needed a doctor. Urgently. But when he reached for his pocket, he found nothing but the tissue he’d used earlier to blow his nose.

“…’m fine …” Jeno grunted, clearly still in excruciating pain even as he grabbed hold of the armchair that had been knocked over and used it to heave himself to his feet. “Where … Where’s Bomin?”

“Downstairs,” Jaemin dismissed, reaching out to steady him as he swayed where he stood, still clutching at the wound in his scalp. “Jeno, you should sit down. You’re hurt really bad and I need to call an ambulance.”

Jeno didn’t appear to be listening because, instead of obeying Jaemin’s request, he leaned forwards, fisting his free hand in his friend’s shirt and staring up at him with glazed and droopy eyes.

“’s not true …” he slurred, breathing terrifyingly laboured. “Whatever … whatever she said … ‘s not true …”

Jaemin already knew that Bomin’s story was twisted but he couldn’t bare the thought of focusing on that right now while Jeno was bleeding all over the carpet.

“Sit down,” he tried again to no avail. “Please, Jeno, sit down! You’ve hit your head! This could be really bad!”

Jeno’s eyes narrowed and the grip he had on Jaemin’s shirt fell lax as he stepped back, shaking the steadying hands off his shoulders and regarding the person before him with nothing short of confused betrayal.

“You … You believe her …”

“I don’t know what to believe!” Jaemin cried, looking around desperately to see if his phone had tumbled out of his pocket. “I just know that I need to get you to a hospital.”

“How could … you believe her?” Jeno hissed, staggering backwards and using the blood-smeared wall behind him for support. “How could you believe I’d … do something like that …?”

“I don’t! I know you wouldn’t! I just need you to sit down so I can go downstairs and get a phone to call for help!”

“What … What’s wrong with you?” Jeno was muttering, his words beginning to meld together as his tongue seemed to refuse to cooperate and his knees shook beneath his weight. “Why are you letting her walk all … all over you? Why are you such … a pushover?”

Jaemin froze, staring at his best friend like he’d just grown an extra head alongside his bleeding one. He knew that Jeno was injured, probably concussed, and therefore didn’t know what he was saying, but he couldn’t deny that his words were starting to hurt.

“Ca … Can’t you ssssee what shhhe’s doin’?” Jeno continued, his whole body wavering until he was forced to grab onto the armchair for support. “Shhhe’s ma … manipulating you … feeding off you l … like a parasssite … and you’re letting her!”

“She’s my sister!” Jaemin countered, suddenly hit with a burst of defensiveness even as he watched Jeno struggling to get his feet back underneath him.

They were supposed to be friends. Best friends. Best friends who’d do anything for each other. And Jaemin knew that Bomin was a handful but, ever since she’d gotten here, Jeno had been nothing but hostile and cruel.

He hadn’t even given her a chance, despite how many times Jaemin had begged him to. What kind of friend was he if he wasn’t even trying to help Jaemin realign Bomin’s tragically diverted path?

“And she’s trying to get you to hate me!” Jeno spat, still grappling with his own vertical status.

“Well, right now, it’s working!”

The moment the words had left his mouth, he saw the effect he’d had. Jeno’s grip slipped from the back of the chair, his knees gave out and he crashed onto the carpet with a sickeningly loud thump and a gut-wrenching cry of pain.

“Jeno …”

“Get off me!” Jeno snapped, slapping at the helping hand Jaemin offered him but not even trying to get back up. “Get … get …”

His sentence trailed off, his head lolling forwards until his chin touched his chest. And then he just slid to the side, body keeling over onto the floor that was already stained with his blood as the last dregs of strength left him.

“Jeno … Jeno?”

Jaemin advanced on wobbly legs, uncertain whether Jeno was faking to get out of their fight or if this was the real deal. He lowered himself to his knees and reached out with a trembling hand to shake Jeno’s shoulder.

“Jeno?”

There was no response. His breaths were wheezing. His eyes were closed. His clothes were drenched in blood. He wasn’t conscious anymore, he was maybe even dying and the last thing he’d heard was that his best friend hated him.

“Bomin!” Jaemin screamed, tears spilling onto his cheeks as he scrambled up from the floor and bolted down the stairs. “Bomin, call an ambulance!”

He skidded into the living room and saw his little sister standing by the window with one hand pinning an ice pack to her face and the other clutching a phone.

“Jeno’s unconscious!” Jaemin gasped, lunging for the device. “I think he’s dying!”

He snatched the mobile from her hand but the moment his eyes settled on the screen, his brows creased in a frown of desperate confusion as he looked back up at her with questioning perplexity.

“This is mine,” he breathed. “And did you already call the ambulance? 119’s on the call history …”

“Why would I call an ambulance?” Bomin snapped, the tears in her eyes having dried up completely to be replaced by hostility. “He attacked me. He’s a paedophile. I called the police.”

Jaemin’s jaw dropped and he probably would have screamed in her face right there and then if he weren’t so terrified for Jeno’s health. The choice words he wanted to spew at his sister could wait until after Jeno was safe in a hospital bed with a doctor at his side.

Turning on his heel, he already had his finger on the call button as he made to return to Jeno but the surprisingly strong grip that closed around his elbow yanked him backwards so violently that he almost fell, the phone slipping from his hand.

“What are you doing?” he spluttered as Bomin stooped to retrieve the device. “Give that here.”

“No!” she yowled, clutching the mobile behind her back as he tried to reach for it again. “He attacked me! If he’s going to die because of it then let him! He deserves it!”

“Give me the fucking phone!” Jaemin roared, just short of tackling her to the ground when a flat palm connected with his cheek.

Shock didn’t even begin to describe what he was feeling as his hand leapt to the assaulted area, the skin burning and sizzling in the wake of her slap.

“Why are you always prioritising him over me?” she screeched in his face. “I’m your sister! Your family! We’re blood! So why the fuck is it always about him when he’s nothing more than a filthy man whore who gets off on stripping in front of children? Why can’t you ever just think about me for once in your life?”

The next few words that left Jaemin’s mouth came out low and dangerously calm.

“Once in my life?” he echoed. “I practically raised you, you ungrateful bitch! I walked you to school, I drove you to all your sleepovers and birthday parties, I’ve bailed you out of fucking jail more times than I can even count and you have the fucking audacity to tell me _I’m _the selfish one? My best friend is up there right now, possibly dying, because of what you did! And don’t come at me with that whole ‘he attacked me’ act because I don’t fucking believe you, Bomin! Now give me the fucking phone before you become a fucking murderer!”

Her expression was unreadable as she held out the phone and Jaemin grabbed it so fast that he almost dropped it again, already lunging for the door and dialling the emergency number.

But something made him stop.

“Oppa …” Her tone was cold. Colder than he’d ever heard it before. “If you go to him right now then I’m done with this family. I’ll never speak to you or Eomma and Appa ever again.”

Jaemin turned his head, making sure he looked her right in the eye as he uttered the sincerest words that had ever left his lips.

“Good.”

He left without wasting another second, barrelling up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him and sobbing for an ambulance as he flung himself on the ground beside Jeno’s body, pulled the boy’s bloodsoaked head into his lap and whispered apology after apology as he waited to hear the sirens.

**Hateful comments will be deleted **


	6. Chapter Five

Jaemin felt numb, crammed into the corner of the ambulance and clinging to the handrail as the vehicle rocketed down the street with sirens wailing and speed cameras shattering. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what was happening.

He could see the body on the gurney was Jeno but, for some reason, his mind couldn’t process that the lump of bloodied flesh strapped to the stretcher in front of him belonged to his best friend. Or the person who had, until recently, been his best friend.

The chance of Jeno ever forgiving him after this was infinitesimal. And that was if Jeno even lived long enough because, from the looks of him at that moment, he was already circling the drain.

He had a neck brace collaring his throat, keeping his chin propped up, and his head was boxed in with big plastic blocks, sticky tape securing them in place. A dressing was plastered to his scalp, a deep scarlet splodge already seeping through from the other side.

An oxygen mask was clamped over his face, fogging up every time he puffed out a short sharp wheeze, and the paramedic at his side kept lifting his eyelids so he could shine a light at his pupils.

Jaemin wasn’t a doctor. He’d never even taken so much as a first aid training course. But he could tell from the furrow in the EMT’s brow and the thin-lipped grimace on his face that he wasn’t confident about Jeno’s prospects.

And Jaemin felt sick.

If he hadn’t allowed Bomin to stay. If he hadn’t shot Jeno down every time he warned him about his little sister’s devious mind. If he hadn’t been so lazy about finding her a place to go. If he hadn’t asked Jeno to get the pills from his room.

“Hey!”

He snapped out of his internal monologue of self-hatred as the paramedic reached out to swat him on the arm, successfully catching his attention.

“Does your friend have any pre-existing medical conditions I need to know about?”

“No,” Jaemin gasped, shaking his head and wiping his tears on his sleeve. “But his blood type’s A positive and he’s allergic to penicillin.”

The medic nodded, noting down the facts on some kind of clipboard that he then deposited on Jeno’s legs, raising his voice and shouting to his partner in the driver’s seat, “As fast as you can, Youngmin!”

This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening. Jeno couldn’t be this hurt and this sick when Jaemin had only been talking to him this morning. Jeno couldn’t die when the last thing they’d said to each other included the word “hate”.

“Kid,” the paramedic called out again. “If there’s anybody who needs to be called then I suggest you get on that right about now.”

That simple sentence felt like a punch to Jaemin’s gut and he tried to convince himself that he had misinterpreted the suggestion but the doubt was eating away at the denial like a family of termites.

Had the man before him just implied that, if Jaemin didn’t call Jeno’s next of kin right now, the boy wasn’t going to live long enough to say goodbye to them?

He fumbled for his phone, dirtying the screen with the blood still smeared over his palms, and tried desperately to access his contact list with fingers that were trembling and badly coordinated.

Only then did he realise he didn’t know who to call.

The vehicle drew to a rather bumpy stop and before Jaemin had a chance to even take a breath, the doors were being wrenched open and his body was bathed in the early morning sunshine. Doctors had clearly been waiting for them because there was already a hoard of medical professionals waiting in the ambulance bay.

“Out of the way!” one of them ordered and Jaemin leapt off the top step, ankles shuddering from the impact they made with the concrete.

He watched, retreating to give them as much space as possible, as the paramedic relayed Jeno’s vital signs and personal information to the doctors, all of them working together to manoeuvre the gurney out of the ambulance and onto the ground.

Jaemin followed on wobbly legs, still clutching his phone uselessly to his chest, as the doctors and nurses whisked Jeno through the hospital doors and onto the polished floorboards. He knew he wouldn’t be allowed to stay by his friend’s side while they worked on him but he couldn’t bare to let him out of his sight.

“Sir, you can’t go any further.”

He stopped obediently, still trembling, still crying, and craned his neck to get a last glimpse of his best friend just before the doors to the resuscitation room swung closed and Jeno disappeared from view.

It took a concerningly long time for Jaemin to realise that the phone in his hand was vibrating, the screen lit up with Mark’s goofy grin as two buttons pulsated below in green and red, taunting him with such a mundane choice on such a horrific day.

“Hyung?”

The word that left his mouth was so weak that he was surprised Mark heard him but the worry in his big brother’s voice would have been evident from space.

“Jaemin? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

So many things. So, so many. He didn’t want to tell Mark how badly he’d fucked up, how he’d put all of them in danger, how he might have inadvertently murdered Jeno, but he had to. He couldn’t handle this on his own anymore.

“Hyung …” he repeated brokenly, shrinking into a nearby chair and pulling his knees up to his chest. “You need to come home. Now. You and the hyungs. Especially … Especially Doyoung-hyung.”

“What? Why? Jaemin, we’re about to go on stage! What’s going on?”

He had to say it. He deserved the anger that would rain down on top of him. He deserved the slap in the face he would receive when his hyungs returned. He deserved whatever sentence he was landed with because this was all his fault.

“Jeno’s hurt.” Just saying those words sent a spasm of guilt ricocheting through his body. “It’s really, really bad, hyung. You … You all need to come home.”

He could literally hear the stunned silence from the other end of the line as Mark probably froze in his tracks, dropped whatever he was holding, and stared at his phone screen in silent horror.

“Hyung …” Jaemin parroted once more, his tears dripping onto his jeans. “Mark-hyung … I’m so sorry … It’s my fault … I … I need you. Hyung, please, I need you really bad right now.”

There were muffled voices from the speaker, more than one pair of vocal cords blending in, and Jaemin could only make out a few words here and there.

_“… Jeno … hurt … apparently … serious …”_

_“… I don’t … no, we need to …”_

_“… we can’t …”_

_“… fucking serious? … wrong with …”_

The volume was rising and Jaemin couldn’t help the strangled sob from breaking free of his lips at the thought of his hyungs fighting because of him. Because of what he’d done. Because of how he’d allowed Jeno to be hurt like that.

He could hear somebody shouting his name – somebody who sounded remarkably like Doyoung – but he was already hanging up, unable to form any more coherent words and too terrified of the verbal beatdown he would receive for his crimes.

There was no concept of time in a hospital. Every second felt like it was a thousand years long and with each tick of the clock, Jaemin couldn’t help but think if it would be Jeno’s last.

He had no idea how long it was before Renjun was barrelling into the waiting room, his face paler than paper and his eyes already beginning to water even before Jaemin scrambled up from his chair and threw his arms around the kid’s skinny shoulders.

“What happened?” Renjun whispered in his ear, numbly returning the embrace as Jaemin sobbed into the crook of his neck. “What … What happened, Jaemin?”

“She hit him,” Jaemin wailed pathetically. “I came home and he … he was bleeding and she just … she just left him and … he could be dying, Renjun. He could be dying and my sister’s the one who did that to him.”

Renjun drew back, his eyes whizzing backwards and forwards as though processing the enormity of the situation was making his brain short circuit and the thought only made Jaemin cry even harder.

He had never needed his hyungs more than he needed them right at that moment.

“Where is she?” Renjun forced out through a constricted throat, still resolutely refusing to meet Jaemin’s eye. “Where’s Bomin now?”

“I …” Jaemin stuttered, forehead furrowing as he came to the realisation. “I don’t know. She … She said she’d called the police but I … I didn’t see her when the paramedics were … taking Jeno.”

He didn’t know where she was. She could be anywhere right now. She could be typing up her twisted story on social media, readying herself to throw Jeno to the vultures when he wasn’t even dead yet. She could be at the police station, formulating a false testimony with her fake tears and her inappropriately revealing clothes.

Why had he let her disappear when he should have pinned her to the ground and slapped the cuffs on her himself?

“I’m sorry …”

But the look Renjun gave him was spelling a perfectly clear response: _sometimes sorry isn’t good enough. _

\-------------------------

Doyoung and Mark arrived at 11am, smelling strongly of airports and stress, and immediately Jaemin and Renjun were bombarded with questions they were too upset to answer. It wasn’t until Taeyong burst in at midday that the hyungs finally got the explanation they craved.

“Why wouldn’t you tell us?” Mark murmured, gazing at a fixed spot on the floor ahead of him. “Why would you risk so much for a girl you knew was just a junkie?”

It was a question Jaemin had been expecting and yet also one that he didn’t have an answer to.

“I’m sorry,” he echoed for the thousandth time. “I don’t know what else I can say other than ‘I’m sorry’. I thought I could help her. I thought it was my job to help her. I had no idea she was capable of doing something like this.”

“It’s okay,” Taeyong said at once, reaching over to squeeze Jaemin’s thigh. “You were just trying to be a good brother. This isn’t your fault.”

Jaemin tried to portray his gratitude in a smile but his lips were stiff from crying and all that came out was a pathetic little whimper. Doyoung was still yet to say a word and hadn’t stopped pacing since he’d arrived, breaths forcibly controlled.

It was too difficult to tell whether he was just worried for Jeno or also harbouring a deep-seated hatred for Jaemin and his leech of a sister.

“Where are you going?” Taeyong called out, jostling Renjun’s head on his shoulder, when Jaemin stood up.

“Bathroom.”

He couldn’t be there any longer. He just couldn’t. And he needed some space to scream at a blank white wall until he lost his voice.

\-------------------

When Jeno woke up, he just felt heavy. His head was stuffed full of cotton wool, his arms were leaden weights at his side and it took an exorbitant amount of effort just to pry his eyelids apart. He wasn’t in pain, he wasn’t uncomfortable, he was just floating in white.

In the back of his mind, he identified the strange plastic thing on his face as an oxygen mask but he was too groggy to care about that. Too groggy to care about anything much. He just kept floating. It felt good that way.

He had no memory of where he was, what had happened or why he couldn’t even recall what month it was but, for some reason, that didn’t bother him. Whatever drugs were circulating his system must have been pretty strong, and he liked it like that.

The door opened and he allowed his eyes to roam towards it in mild interest, expecting to see Renjun coming in to wake him up or Chenle wanting to play video games, and squinting in confusion when none of those people stood at the foot of his bed.

He knew who this person was. He knew he knew. But he couldn’t remember. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t put a name to the face that was glaring back at him with big ugly mascara smudges orbiting the eyes that were burning with nothing short of pure hatred.

“You …” she hissed, literally quivering with rage as she stepped closer. “…ruined everything.”

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t right at all. This was actually scary. Jeno’s survival instincts were screaming at him to do something – fight or run or shout for help – but his limbs felt too heavy and his head was still too foggy and he couldn’t even move his lips to ask her who she was.

“You couldn’t just let it go, could you?” she growled, continuing to advance until she towered over Jeno’s bed with her greasy hair falling in tangled knots around her shoulders. “You couldn’t just keep your mouth shut and your nose out instead of destroying the relationship I had with my brother.”

Her long fingers were reaching for his face, nail extensions tapping against his oxygen mask before she was tugging it from him, the elastic snapping painfully against his cheek. Jeno winced, trying to turn his head away from the discomfort and search for something to help him defend himself.

There was nothing.

His chest felt strangely tight, like it was being squeezed and he had to increase his breathing pace just to maintain a steady flow of oxygen through his airway as his support system was removed.

“You don’t deserve this life,” his assailant was still whispering, now lifting his head so she could pull the pillow out from under him. “You don’t deserve all those girls screaming your name and all that money you brag about … and my brother doesn’t deserve you.”

Alarm bells went off in Jeno’s brain as everything around him started fading to white but he was still too weak to lash out before there was something soft on top of his face.

The pressure was added, pushing down and down and down and crushing him into the mattress and it took him far too long to realise that he could no longer breathe. Not just struggling to breathe. Actually could _not _breathe.

Adrenaline won over morphine and he started thrashing, heels digging into the bed and hands scrabbling at the offending object that was slowly suffocating him. He couldn’t open his eyes to see, he couldn’t open his mouth to scream, he couldn’t do anything to stop this.

His skull felt like it was about to explode and he wouldn’t have been surprised if blood was oozing from his eyes, nose and ears as his brain expanded until it burst. He kept trying to free himself but he was too weak and she was too strong and he could feel his strength leaving him.

It all came back just like that.

Bomin. The blow to the back of his head. Jaemin. The fight. _Well, right now, it’s working! _He remembered every second and every word just as lights exploded against the backs of his lids and his brain finally decided that enough was enough.

He remembered the last words his best friend had said to him just as his body prepared to die.

There was screaming from both male and female voices, an incessant beeping noise, a crash, a thump, a screech of pain and fury and then Jeno’s face was attacked with cool refreshing air and he felt like he’d just been pulled above the water just seconds before drowning.

He choked, mouth gaping wide as he gasped for breath, eyes streaming tears and hands scratching at his throat as though he could just tear it open and let the oxygen in.

“Jeno! Jeno … Jeno, look at me … Jeno, come on …”

There were hands clasping his cheeks, a face looming above him with terror etched in every feature, the mask was back over his nose and mouth and he felt the machine practically forcing air down his throat but his head still hurt and he still had no idea whether he was alive or dead.

His vision was blurry but he could still make out the shape of two gigantic men taking a shrieking girl by the arms and dragging her from the room even as she kicked and fought and screeched profanities at the top of her lungs.

“Jeno?” someone – he presumed it was a nurse – called out, taking hold of his hand and cupping the side of his face. “Jeno, sweetheart, can you hear me?”

He nodded despite the pain in his neck, eyelids fluttering as he desperately clung to the edges of consciousness, and then the nurse disappeared from his view to be replaced with the person he never thought would be at his bedside.

“Jeno?” Jaemin whispered, tears dribbling over his cheeks as he clung to Jeno’s hand with both of his. “Jeno, are you alright? I’m so sorry, Jeno. I’m so, so sorry.”

Doyoung was there, too. He could see that now. They were both there, leaning over the safety railing of his bed and watching him battle the darkness that was threatening to claim him as its own.

“She’s gone, Jeno,” Doyoung was saying, his voice cracked with emotion. “She’s gone now.”

“For good,” Jaemin specified. “I promise, Jeno, she’s never coming back. I’ll testify against her, I’ll tell the police what she did and how she lied and I swear to you, I’ll never speak to her ever again.”

Jeno could feel himself fading, not dangerously so but still quickly and uncontrolled. He wasn’t dying anymore but he was losing his fight with the urge to fall asleep as the adrenaline ebbed from his aching bones and his exhaustion began to overpower him.

“I love you,” Jaemin was sobbing, his free hand leaping to comb Jeno’s hair out of his eyes. “I love you, I love you, I love you and if I ever say I don’t then I’m lying and you shouldn’t believe me and you should tell me I’m an idiot because I am, Jeno, I am and I’m so sorry and I love you.”

Jeno passed out less than five seconds later as the shock of the attempt on his life finally set in but he could feel the ever so slight upturn to the ends of his lips and the feeble squeeze he gave to Jaemin’s hand just as he slipped away.

He hoped that Jaemin felt it, too.

**Hateful comments will be deleted**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know who you want me to write for next. Thank you for everything <3

**Author's Note:**

> Shout to Juno! I love you, baby!  
Comments and kudos really help with my motivation and confidence so if you have a spare minute, let me know what you think! Have a good day :)


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